Painful Pasts and Sunday Dinners
by Weird Inhuman
Summary: Roy is minding his own business when he stumbles into an old acquaintance.


**A/N Thanks again to my lovely beta c-cantankerous. She's the one who came up with the title. You're the bestest. Written for summeryjweek2018, Day 2: Mentors/Mentees.**

His muscles tensed, almost statuesque for a moment. _Breathe_. In an instant the arrow sliced through the air and punctured the dilapidated sign hanging outside the abandoned smoke shop. His arm instinctively pulled back only to come up empty. Cursing, he sighed and began trekking down the apartment fire escape to retrieve the fallen arrows.

"Come on," he muttered, "get out you stupid-!" The momentum from ripping the arrow out of the rustic wooden sign had caused him to topple backwards. Directly into a wall.

"Need a hand?" _Okay, definitely not a wall then._ _But at least bricks would still be more useful._

"I'm fine Ollie," Roy bit out before straightening himself and turning to face his… his… well what were they now? Former partners? Ex-mentor and mentee? He didn't dare acknowledge the voice screaming they were father and-no. That was enough. _Acquaintances then._ That's right, acquaintances. Green Arrow was someone he had no connection with whatsoever beyond occasionally shooting at a common set of rogues. It was completely impersonal. Acquaintances. So then why did the word leave such a bad taste in his mouth?

"-oy? Roy, are you alright?," the gloved hand on his shoulder knocked Roy out of his stupor. Ollie's normally cheerful smile was replaced with a worried frown; his eyebrows knit together in confusion as he now inspected the redhead more closely.

Roy shrugged the hand off and pulled away. Crossing his arms, he glared and hoped the other archer would take the hint, "I'm fine."

The ensuing silence lasted eternally.

Oliver cleared his throat and awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot. Imploring eyes glanced at Roy, flicking back to the concrete and up again like some bizarre imaginary ping pong ball was whizzing between the two points. Ever so slowly, his mouth started to form words before Roy burst.

"Would you stop that!"

Immediately, Ollie's jaw snapped shut, fastened by titanium. Roy sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time in the last few minutes. Vaguely gesturing with his left hand he motioned for the older man to speak.

"I, well we, that is Dinah and I-" the green-clad hero stuttered.

"Spit it out. You and Dinah what?" Roy pinched the bridge of his nose but nonetheless kept his eyes firmly trained on his fa- _acquaintance! We're acquaintances!_

"Dinahwantedtoknowifyou'dbecomingtodinneronSunday," Ollie babbled.

Eyes wide, Roy blinked, taken aback by the offer. "I um, I think I'm busy Sunday," he offered lamely. Scratching the back of his neck, he willed the rising tidal wave of shame and embarrassment down. After all, what did he have to be ashamed of?

Ollie wilted, "Right. Yeah. Of course," his goatee quivered as his eyes fell back on the pavement, unmoving this time.

Pity rose like bile in his throat. Only to be quashed by a flash of white-hot anger. _What right does he have to come here? To pretend as if the last six months just disappeared? Who does he think he is, painting everything peachy?_

Roy glowered and shoved past Oliver. The other man moved aside numbly. Head held high, Roy continued to march to the end of the block; allowing his shoulders to slump only after making certain he was hidden from view. With leaden fingers he reached into the hidden pocket of his suit, knuckles white as he clutched the scrap of paper.

 _July 18th, 2009_ scrawled in loopy blue cursive. On the back, two blurry figures; as if the photographer had been mid-laugh when she took the picture. A younger redhead smirking triumphantly at the camera while a mop of blond hair spit sand out of his face. Roy smiled at the photo for a moment. Ollie had been boasting about being the best mentor in the League before the 'mentee' had dumped a bucket of sand in his open mouth.

Swallowing, Roy carefully tucked the image back into his pocket before running off across the rooftops.


End file.
